Castiel's Day
by TheYmp
Summary: Cas is unable to do more than watch the Winchesters self-destruct until an author puts him back on the right path. Spoilers for season 7. Descriptions of Hell. Heavily implied pre-Dean/Cas. Sequel to 'No Way Home' and 'The Devil on Your Shoulder'.
1. Día de los Angelitos

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

**Cas is unable to do more than watch the Winchesters self-destruct until an author puts him back on the right path. Spoilers for season 7. Descriptions of Hell. Heavily implied pre-Dean/Cas**

**This story runs parallel to, and follows the events described in 'No Way Home' and 'The Devil on Your Shoulder' so I'd encourage you to read those first. It's another dark one, I'm afraid, but it's always darkest before the dawn.**

~#~

_**Día de Castiel**_** (Castiel's Day)**

_**The universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power**_ **– Martin Luther King, Jr**

~#~

_**Día de los Angelitos**_

Ever since the Leviathans had fled Castiel in search of more controllable, numerous and _edible_ prey, he had been lost. They had eaten their way out of him, and in doing so had seemed to sap some vital spark. It had taken weeks before he'd recovered any semblance of self and even now he wasn't able to take physical form, as close to a ghost as an angel was ever going to get.

So it was that, like a spirit, Castiel had been floating and drifting through the void, sometimes with periods of lucidity, but more often like a dream that he couldn't wake up from. He had suffered through a brief period of dreaming before, when he'd been cut off from the Host, just prior to the Apocalypse, and he hadn't liked it then either.

Angels, especially those of his pay grade, were used to dealing with moral certitudes and dreams are the very antithesis of this. He often wondered, as did many of his brethren, how humans made it through their odd little existence without going insane. Those like Raphael had not been at all convinced that they hadn't, and this dichotomy of God being a perfect being, yet creating such an imperfect species had led to no end of troubles as well documented in the Gospel of Winchester.

But Castiel had found that the longer he'd spent with Dean the more he'd come to believe that it was how they grappled with these uncertainties, especially when the deck was so heavily stacked against them, that was what made their father love humanity above all others. Castiel kept it to himself, but he couldn't help but wonder if it also made Him more exasperated with them too - the thought of being subjected to his father's wrath made him shiver with fear and feel grateful he was an angel and beneath His notice.

It was a sobering thought then, when he remembered how he had laid waste to Heaven under the influence of the purgatory souls. In some ways he found it even more disturbing that he could have ever forgotten that he'd committed such terrible deeds. While at the time it might have seemed like watching another person's actions, the result still meant that there was unlikely to be anyone in Heaven willing to hear his cries for help, although that didn't stop him from trying.

During his more coherent moments he had concentrated on trying to reach out to Sam, thinking that the young man's latent psychic abilities would make him an easy option, but there was just too much demonic-generated static - it was like they were radios operating on different frequencies.

A couple of times he'd got through to Dean, but to his horror all he'd achieved each time was to trigger a series of really quite unpleasant nightmares and repressed memories of Hell in his friend.

It really pained him to see how much guilt and grief Dean carried on his behalf. It both touched and frustrated him that Dean seemed to take some sort of personal responsibility for his actions and it filled him with shame to look back on those actions of the past year.

He realized that it was hubris that had made him want to strike out on his own. He had so wanted to visit Dean one day, when there was no emergency for once, and to be able to say, "Hey, Heaven tried to reboot the apocalypse, can you believe it? But don't worry I took care of it for you," and Dean would give him that crinkle-eyed grin and pat him on the shoulder, before throwing an arm around him, and tell him how pleased he was with him. Then they would celebrate with apple pie and beer and sit on the hood of the Impala looking up at the stars.

Cas sighed, _Dean was right, I really am a baby in a trench coat._ _Still, it doesn't hurt to dream a little_, he laughed at himself as he realized the torturous and contradictory loop his thoughts had just made.

He was distracted from his brooding when he caught a supernatural sense of the Winchesters and followed it out to an old, isolated cabin in Montana. He tried to materialize, but - as he expected and feared - whatever the Leviathans had done to him back at the reservoir still stopped him from taking physical form.

As he stood there, a silent presence, he reflected on how ironic it was that after all the times in the last couple of months that he'd done just this and been terrified of being found out, now he was desperate to be discovered.

The longer Cas watched the Winchesters the more his concern grew at an alarming rate. Sam was in the kitchen talking to an invisible presence and from the energy signature it was clear to Cas that it was Lucifer, or at least a portion of him that had somehow broken out of the Cage. Whatever it was, it wasn't quite strong enough yet to detect Cas' presence.

Cas looked on stunned as Sam continued to talk to Lucifer as if they were old friends, either not knowing, or caring, that this was the real deal and by acknowledging Lucifer he was giving him tacit permission to corrupt him further. Cas watched in revulsion at the roiling psychic clouds of dark smoke rising to envelope Sam's soul. _You're inviting him in_, Cas screamed, but of course there was no one able to hear him.

He remembered how desperate and afraid he'd been that the brothers were going to stop him in his attempts to access Purgatory. He'd been insane with worry that Raphael was going to win, and that as key players Sam and Dean would be the first casualties of the War for Heaven. He was the closest thing to an expert on the Winchesters and knew that something as 'small' as their own deaths wouldn't stop them from proceeding with a course of action.

To keep them distracted and off his back he'd smashed down the wall in Sam's mind that Death had created to shield Sam from the torment he'd suffered in Hell. Cas had never understood what had made him do what he'd done – it didn't make sense, he knew exactly how much Sam meant to Dean, he'd already given up Heaven for the man, and he would have been willing to sacrificed the earth for him without a second thought. But somehow when he'd looked at Sam at that point he'd _needed_ to smash that wall. _Was Lucifer there the whole time? Did I let him out?_

He tried to contact Dean to warn him, but - as was usual these days - Dean was so inebriated that, even given the strength of their special bond, he couldn't do more than sense Dean's fragile mental state, how he was crumbling under the weight of his own guilt, a burden he seemed so willing to take up, and so unable to relinquish.

Cas was pleased to see Sam make the effort to _try_ to comfort Dean, as it showed that at least the younger Winchester wasn't yet lost to them, but the adverse reaction of his handprint on Dean's shoulder to Sam's touch – trying to push him away - meant that the corrupting influence of the fallen angel had still grown very strong.

He watched Dean flee in emotional turmoil and managed to float along after him like some sort of ghostly puppy. He sat undetected in the passenger seat of the car, and although he'd never been fond of human transport, he missed the comforting sensation of the cold vinyl warming to his body heat, and the seating shifting and settling to his weight.

A couple of times he thought he caught Dean looking right at him out of the corner of his eye, but Dean just blinked, muttered under his breath and continued driving.

They arrived at a lake, Cas couldn't understand why they were stopping, but the waves of pain coming off of Dean were like a series of physical blows in their emotional intensity.

Cas was dismayed at how much Dean continued to drink, then horrified as he watched him stumble in his drunkenness and fall headlong into the lake. Dean had been standing on an overhanging ledge so his fall was into very deep water and the weight of his thick jacket and boots just dragged him down further.

"Hang on," Cas screamed in desperation, unmindful that as before there was still no one to hear him. He searched high and low in vain, but there was no moon to cast any light and the water was just too dark and murky, until he realized he was panicking and instead used his bond to pull himself towards his human charge.

He found Dean flailing as weak as a kitten as if he'd already given up, his lungs already full with water. Castiel reached for Dean and by some miracle was able to grasp a firm hold and pull him from the water, leaving just enough strength to drop him by the side of the lake and force the worst of the water from his lungs. He hovered with indecision over Dean, whose breathing was so shallow as to be almost undetectable, unsure which of the man's many injuries he should deal with first.

The decision was snatched from him as he no longer had the energy to hold himself together and, with a splitting pain that coursed like fire through his entire body, he exploded into his constituent atoms and was scattered by the wind.

His last conscious thought rang through the cosmos, _Dean Winchester is saved_.

There was a sensation of time passing, but it could have been a second or a millennium for all knew. As Castiel coalesced back to his familiar form he slumbered and dreamed terrible dreams of creatures made from teeth and retribution.

~#~


	2. Día de los Muertos

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

**Cas is unable to do more than watch the Winchesters self-destruct until an author puts him back on the right path. Spoilers for season 7. Descriptions of Hell. Heavily implied pre-Dean/Cas**

**This story runs parallel to, and follows the events described in 'No Way Home' and 'The Devil on Your Shoulder' so I'd encourage you to read those first. It's another dark one, I'm afraid, but it's always darkest before the dawn.**

~#~

_**Día de Castiel**_** (Castiel's Day)**

_**The universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power**_ **– Martin Luther King, Jr**

~#~

_**Día de los Muertos**_

Cas woke from the dreams, screaming, "Oh Lord, please help me, I beg you!"

He felt disorientated, his innate angelic senses seemed to be telling him he was somewhere in South America although he couldn't pin-point his exact location, but at least he now seemed solid.

It was dark and there were crowds of people watching fireworks over a lake, while nearby sat a multitude of small altars decorated with skulls and offerings of food, drink and small orange flowers.

"Hey, Cas isn't it? How's it going?" called a familiar voice from the dark.

Cas cocked his head in surprise, walking nearer to the figure sitting in a deck chair, face part-turned and hidden from the glow of a nearby bonfire.

"Chuck?" asked Cas, drawing near and recognizing the man.

"It is you! Happy Day of the Dead, man," cheered the author.

Cas almost fell to his knees in relief to at last be visible to someone, "You have to help me, Chuck. I need to get a message to Heaven."

"Oh, you cut off too, huh?" asked Chuck in sympathy, "Not heard a peep from upstairs for a month or so now. Can't say as I miss the headaches though."

"You're no longer a prophet?" Cas gasped.

"S'right, luckily I have a back log of writing and a very loyal, if very small, fan base."

"Nothing?" Cas asked in disappointment.

Chuck looked concerned, "Do I take it that this," he waved in Cas' general direction, "means you guys are back then? Cause if so I'll need to swap back from beer to Tequila."

Cas shook his head, "I have had somewhat of a falling out..."

"Yeah, me too with my publisher," reflected Chuck, "apparently my latest work is too _noir_ for some people's tastes," he grumbled.

Cas cocked his head again, feeling a prickling sense of shame crawling up his spine. "What was the last thing you wrote?" he asked with feeling of dread.

Chuck gave him a long appraising look, a flash of steel behind the normal laid-back slacker attitude. "You... crowning yourself King of this pile of beans," he answered. He took a pull from his drink. "So how's that working out for ya?"

"You know what I was facing, what we were all facing – you of all people should know I had no choice," Cas pleaded, wincing at the whining note he detected in his own voice.

Chuck gave a dry laugh, throwing his empty bottle into the fire, and pulling out a new one from under his chair, "There's always a choice, Cas. Isn't that what you and the Winchesters fought so hard for? What was it Dean called us? _Team Free Will_."

Chuck took another long pull from his beer, "Do you _really_ want someone telling you what you have to do, when to do it, and how it's all gonna end?"

The angel shifted in discomfort under Chuck's piercing gaze, his lack of an answer speaking volumes.

"Look at me, I'm on vacation. Travelling the world, they say it broadens the mind. You notice how no one says visiting shit is good for you. It's all 'bout the journey, y'see," continued Chuck.

At that moment a series of loud and beautiful fireworks exploded into life over the lake, and they stopped to admire them.

"Sheesh, I'm drunk," he laughed.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, nothing just stops, it's all a journey and stuff happens along the way. Maybe God just sometimes wants us all to find a bit more _faith in ourselves and in each other_," said Chuck to a thoughtful looking Castiel.

"You asked for a sign, you got one. Dean said don't do it. You did it anyway. You need to fix it, Cas, and move on," said the author, raising his voice in exasperation at a chastised looking Castiel who was staring down at his shoes.

Chuck caught himself, closed his eyes and took a brief calming breath before continuing in a softer tone, "But I guess you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs," he shook his head as he realized he was rambling. "Talking of which, I've signed up for a cookery course tomorrow, I need to get to bed if I'm going to make it up in the morning."

"Of course. Thank you Chuck, you're a good man," said Cas, not thinking to question the sense of being dismissed, as he disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings.

"G'night, Castiel," Chuck sighed in quiet affection.

~#~

After the angel had departed, Chuck sat lost in thought as he finished up his beer and watched the last of the fireworks.

"You're fond of that one, aren't you?" said the man in the next deckchair along, around a mouthful of _pan de muerto_.

"I'm fond of all them," Chuck muttered. He turned to look at the man, who was thin to the point of being skeletal, "But, yes, I do have a soft spot for him in particular."

"You don't think you spoil him?" asked the thin man in his usual world-weary tone.

"He's been through a tough time. I've put a lot on his shoulders."

"And he's made some pretty big mistakes."

"Oh, well blame the parents..." said Chuck, his voice soft. He thought for a moment, "I blame the mother," he added with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye.

The thin man _almost_ smiled at the joke, "Is it still worth it?" he asked in honest curiosity, "Most of them don't even thank you."

Chuck snorted, "What's the alternative? I won't lie, everyone likes to be appreciated, but that's not what this is about."

"I'm not sure I like you like... this," the thin man said, waving his black walking cane in a gesture that encompassed Chuck, "You're so much less _certain_ than you used to be."

Chuck gave a sad, tight smile, "You can't fit a pint into a quart pot, so you have to pack light – but it has its advantages – sometimes I like not knowing what's going to happen next," he said, his eyes glistening.

He cleared his throat to gather his thoughts, putting on a false front and a fake chuckle, "Anyway, how else are you supposed to reap me?"

"You worry about them, _too much_. I said this would happen," the thin man said in a kind voice.

"I'm _supposed_ to be vengeful and wrathful," the author sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

The thin man passed him a neatly pressed, monogrammed handkerchief, "Of course you are."

~#~


	3. Día de los ñatitas

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

**Cas is unable to do more than watch the Winchesters self-destruct until an author puts him back on the right path. Spoilers for season 7. Descriptions of Hell. Heavily implied pre-Dean/Cas**

**This story runs parallel to, and follows the events described in 'No Way Home' and 'The Devil on Your Shoulder' so I'd encourage you to read those first. It's another dark one, I'm afraid, but it's always darkest before the dawn.**

~#~

_**Día de Castiel**_** (Castiel's Day)**

_**The universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power**_ **– Martin Luther King, Jr**

~#~

_**Día de los ñatitas**_

Cas found himself drifting back over the cabin in Montana, once more with no discernible physical form, although he felt stronger than he had for some time. Meeting Chuck had been unexpected, but talking with him had been both invigorating and inspiring, _I wonder if it was a sign?_

He saw that Dean was asleep in one of the beds and he offered a prayer of thanks that his friend had made his own way home safely. He was puzzled, but relieved to see that the man seemed unharmed, with none of the minor injuries he'd seen earlier and it occurred to him that he had no idea of how long he'd been floating, _Maybe it's been months?_

There was something off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. A scent in the air that seemed disturbingly familiar, but he couldn't identify. _It's unpleasant... sulfur_.

He was struck by an overpowering wave of nausea and so almost missed seeing Sam enter the room and come to a stop by the bed.

"Wake up," Sam called in a loud, harsh voice, slapping Dean across his face.

Dean's eyes flickered open and Cas gasped as they showed as a solid black-in-black. Sam spun around scanning the room as if he'd heard the sound.

"Sam?" Dean asked, he felt...weird and he was confused by his surroundings as well as his brother's actions.

"Guess again," Sam answered in a mocking tone.

Dean slumped, defeated, "Lucifer," he breathed. The sight of his baby brother inhabited by that preening, smug fallen angel was like a skewer through his heart.

"Well, as near as I can get," he cocked his head in a Cas-like way, as if he was listening to an internal voice, he nodded and smiled, "Think of it as multitasking."

_Hold on in there Sammy, I'll get you out of this... somehow_, Dean vowed_._ He swallowed convulsively, he felt... odd - cold, but feverish and somehow empty, like he'd been hollowed out. He tried not to think of where he'd been the last time he'd felt just like this, "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing much worse than you've already been doing to yourself. Bit of corrupting, bit of torture, bit of binding you to me, y'know the usual," Lucifer said airily.

Lucifer peered at him, "Hmm, the black-eyes thing usually makes people look creepy, it's partly why I invented it, but on you it actually looks pretty good."

Dean jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror, "My God..." he moaned.

Lucifer snorted, "Not any more he's not, not while you bare my mark, that's for sure."

Dean caught sight of Castiel in the mirror. Whatever he was about to say was forgotten, as his mouth fell open, the shock clear on his face.

_Can he see me?_ thought Cas in excitement. Remembering more pressing problems, he motioned for Dean to keep quiet. Confusion was quickly replaced with understanding as Dean struggled to pull his eyes from Cas and he looked instead at Lucifer.

It seemed like His Satanic Majesty was too busy tormenting Dean to notice anything amiss.

"What do you want?" demanded Dean.

"Oh, restart the Apocalypse, trash the earth, kick Michael's ass, reign over Heaven, all that good-stuff, nothing too unreasonable," Lucifer chuckled at his own joke.

"So what'd you need me for?"

"I need you to say 'Yes'. See, when dear little Sammy jumped us all back into the Pit, I'm afraid your half-brother, being of inferior stock, didn't even make it all the way down," the Devil smirked.

"Adam's dead?" Dean rasped, his sudden pallor emphasizing the black pits that were now his eyes.

"Yes, it seems Sam can also add _fratricide_ to his résumé of sins," he smiled, enjoying the sound of Sam's cries of anguish echoing within him.

Dean stood motionless, considering. He smiled, it was a cold and determined little smile, "So he returned to Heaven then, didn't he? He never actually suffered in Hell after all."

When Lucifer snarled in response and stalked from the room, it was all the answer Dean needed and something in him lightened.

Cas reached out towards Dean in an awkward, abortive attempt to touch him, "You can see me?"

"Yes, so now what? You working for _him_ now?"

"No!" Cas cried, his feelings hurt, "How can you think that?"

"Well, what do you expect me to think? You're the one who pulled down that wall in the first place. Then Lucifer just happens to turn up unannounced."

Cas tried to meet his eyes, but the solid black-in-black seemed to show no emotion. He shuddered to think that he was connected to someone who now numbered among the damned, then felt a stab of guilt at the selfish thought.

"I've made some terrible mistakes, but please believe me when I say that at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. I know now I should have believed in you and I should have tried another way. But back then everything seemed so hopeless. If I'd just reached out to you..."

He looked out at the door, worried in case Lucifer returned. "Like _him,_ I'm guilty of pride and thinking that I know best."

His face twisted in anxiety as he begged, "Please forgive me, Dean. Please allow me to at least attempt to make amends."

"Oh man, we're as bad as each other. I'm officially naming you a Winchester, seeing as you've brought about the end of the world and now you're trying to save it," Dean joked, rather than confronting his true feelings.

Cas smiled, to be granted Winchester status, even in jest, was a great honor. His face darkened, "We have to do something about _him_," he said nodding in Lucifer's general direction.

"You think? Cause I'm having a little crisis here of my own," said Dean gesturing to his eyes.

"They're a mark of allegiance that _he's_ initiated, probably by giving you his blood. Hell is the absence of faith and having no hope for something better, so it's feeding on those feelings."

Dean made noises as if to deny it, but Cas waved a negating hand at him. "I've been watching you, don't deny how empty you've been feeling."

Dean paused for a moment, pursing his lips in thought, "So now what?"

"Do what you've always done. Get back up again and have faith in yourself that you can get through this. Don't give in to despair, but this time believe that Sam and I can beat this too. I'm not saying that we don't need support, but no matter what, we're all capable of redemption."

He thought for a moment, "Except him, _not-Sam_," he said motioning with his head, a mix of prudence and superstition making him unwilling to use the fallen angel's name in case it should summon him.

"So, can't he see you?"

"Until a few moments ago _you_ couldn't see me. Unless."

"What?"

"How did it make you feel when you realized your brother was being possessed? Angry yes, determined to save him at any cost? That no matter what, you would save him? That's the kind of faith in ourselves we need to cultivate."

Dean nodded in understanding, "I know I'm not very good at this stuff, but I meant it you know, what I said about you being like a brother to me," he said trying to not to choke on the words.

"Thank-you Dean, that means a lot to me, especially after... everything"

"Well don't get too excited, it just means I'll hold you to a higher standard and rag on you all the time," he quipped with a cheeky-wink, although the effect was slightly lost without the usual sparkling green eyes.

Dean looked stricken when all the talk of family made him realize there was someone important missing, "So, you any idea where Bobby is?"

Cas smiled, happy for once to be the bearer of good news, "I think you'll find he's at the Sheriff's house. Last I saw he was 'helping her with her enquiries'."

Dean looked at the angel in amazement, "Did you just make a joke?"

"Yes," he said, considering, "I think I just did."

"Well isn't this sweet?" smirked Lucifer from the door.

Dean cursed under his breath, he'd always envied Sam's ninja-like ability to walk quietly, all the more impressive for such a big guy, and it seemed that Lucifer had retained that ability.

"Who are you talking to? Have you gone crazy like your brother, Dean? Are you talking to imaginary angels too?"

Lucifer blinked, staring into space, it made him seem so lizard-like that Dean could almost imagine a forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, "No, he's here, isn't he. I thought I sensed something earlier. Well, it seems that everything is going my way."

Dean shifted onto the balls of his feet, readying himself for a fight.

"So have you told him how you really feel yet?" mocked Lucifer.

Dean froze, heat rising in his cheeks, this wasn't the attack he'd been expecting.

"Oh you're blushing, how sweet." laughed Lucifer.

"You shut up," Dean growled.

"Oh, but you were so gushingly heart-felt earlier, if not exactly eloquent."

Cas frowned in confusion, "To what are you referring", he asked in confusion.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then, shall I?"

Dean scowled, he hated chick-flick moments, _I'll be damned if I let Lucifer have a hold over me. Okay, poor choice of words..._

Dean turned to Cas, not quite managing to make eye contact, "Y'know, what happened when you pulled me from the lake," he mumbled, thinking that if he blushed anymore he was sure to explode.

Cas looked even more confused, "Yes, I was barely able to physically manifest myself to pull you from the water before breaking apart again. Why?"

"Oh, so we didn't..." Dean trailed off in horror, he'd been so sure it'd been Cas who'd initiated the kiss.

"Didn't what?" asked Cas, becoming irritated by these odd tangential conversations.

Lucifer looked on in amusement, "Sounds like there was an imaginary angel after all, eh Dean?"

Dean scowled while his cheeks and ears burned a furious red.

Oh, don't look so embarrassed," taunted Lucifer in a sly voice, "I know you're not really going to open your heart up to that _angel_."

Dean bristled at the tone that made the word sound like an insult.

"I mean, how's he going to react when he finds out what you're _really_ like inside? I _know_ what's in your heart."

"What would _you_ know about my heart?" spat Dean in a voice dripping with contempt.

"Oh, I'm _heartbroken_ you don't remember!" Lucifer mocked, then turned to Castiel, "Back in the day, everyone talked about Alistair's beautiful, vicious little pet. He was quite the envied in Hell for it, y'know."

The devil smirked at Dean's pale, blank expression, "You don't recall? I'd heard this pet had quite a liking for feasting on the hearts of its victims. Then one day a shy, polite boy came up to the bars of my cage and explained he ate them to make up for how empty the heart in his own chest felt."

"Then to demonstrate his devotion to me, he cut out that heart and fed it to me. One sliver at a time."

Lucifer laughed at the expression on Dean's face, "Y'know what? It even tasted _righteous_."

"So you see, there's no one that knows what's in your heart better than me, since I'm the only one you've ever given it to," Lucifer said with a wide, crooked grin.

He turned to the angel, "Join me Castiel and I'll share him with you. Serve me well and he's all yours."

Castiel laid a calming hand on Dean's shoulder and looked at the being inhabiting Sam's body. It was a long appraising gaze, he really looked. He cocked his head to one side, "You're not really Lucifer are you?" he said in a thoughtful tone, after a long silence, almost as if he was talking to himself.

Dean and Lucifer both turned to him in surprise.

"What d'you mean?" asked Dean, wondering why Lucifer hadn't answered.

Cas caught Dean's eye, but turned his attention back to the devil.

"It bothered me, what you said before, about being in two places at the same time. Lucifer is still in the cage. He's infected Sam's soul somehow, with _you_, but you're not him."

"Call me _Luce_. And I'm a close enough copy," he sneered, taking a mock bow.

"Maybe, in terms of personality and memory, but I somehow doubt you have his power. In fact, other than tormenting Sam and tricking him into allowing you to possess him, I don't think you actually have any influence on the external world at all."

Luce scowled and his lack of an answer was all the answer Castiel needed and he started to recite the exorcism rite from the _Rituale Romanum_.

Luce hissed at him. "You dare? I know what you did to the Host in Heaven. _I_ merely refused to serve, _you_ placed yourself above _Him_."

Cas' face twitched, the muscles in his cheek working, but he hunched his shoulders and carried on reciting.

Luce pointed at Dean, "Stop, or I'll rip his soul to shreds," he screeched in frustration, swaying like a tree about to topple.

"Sleep," commanded Castiel, touching two fingers to the tall man's forehead and both of them slumped to the floor. Dean rushed forward to catch them, but only managed to get dragged down too, landing on top of them and finding his face uncomfortably close to Cas'. Dean's mouth was dry and he swallowed audibly when Cas' eyes flicked open.

"You okay?" Dean asked, jumping to his feet.

"Yes, very good. I had thought I might lose physical cohesion again."

"What, you mean disappear?" he asked, helping the angel up to a sitting position.

"Whatever the Leviathans did to me seems to be wearing off, but I'm still very weak," at Dean's look of concern Cas smiled and added, "If it's any consolation, _he's_ weaker."

Cas shuffled forward and started shaking the unconscious man in front of him as if to wake him.

"What you doing, didn't you just knock him out?"

"I'm hoping that we can wake _Sam_."

As if on cue the larger man started to wake. Groaning and rubbing his head he sat up.

Dean look delighted, before a look of worry crossed his face. He looked at Cas with a querying expression and sighed in relief when Cas nodded confirming that Sam was back.

"Cas," Sam said in a voice choked with emotion, "Something I should've done a long time ago," and he pulled the angel towards him and wrapped him in a long, tight bear-hug.

~#~

Cas looked at the sigil carved into Sam's forearm with obvious displeasure, "You did this of your own volition?" he asked, the disbelief plain in his voice.

Sam nodded, the shame clear on his face.

"Can't we burn it like we did to Meg's mark when she possessed Sam," asked Dean, forgetting that Castiel hadn't been around back then.

"No," replied Cas, getting the idea, "It's all the way down to his soul."

"We're going to have to think of something else," said Cas simply.

"So, what if I can't stop him taking over again in the meantime?"

"I have faith in you, Sam," smiled Cas.

Sam looked to his brother in confusion. Dean slapped him on the shoulder and held a firm grip for a moment, nodding his agreement.

"Thanks guys, I won't let you down," said Sam in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, his eyes glistening.

~#~

When Sam next slept, he dreamed he was back in the Cage.

Lucifer, no _Luce_, walked up all bravado, "Hey, Sammy," he called cheerfully, "How long do you think you can keep me here?"

"Hey, yourself," Sam answered rising to his feet. "How long are you going to make me keep you here?"

Luce frowned, "What do you mean?"

Sam darted forward and wrapped his long arms around the devil pulling him into a vice-like grip.

"Welcome to your new cage," he hissed into Luce's ear.

~#~

At first they thought that Sam was taking a well deserved rest, then Dean wondered aloud if his brother had regressed to his teenage ability for massive amounts of sleep.

Dean joked that someone as good-looking as him didn't need as much beauty sleep as Sam obviously did.

"Yes, you are a very attractive man," a distracted Cas agreed. He stared at Dean with an intense and curious expression, noting the gradual way the hunter's black-in-black eyes had started returning to their normal green.

Dean went bright-red, "Sammy, wake up!" he shouted.

Sam woke and stretched as he climbed out of bed, feeling stronger and better rested than he had in years. He looked around and _within_, and realized that Luce was... gone.

_No, that's not it_. _I'm_ _not quite_ _Sam, anymore_. _But, I'm not Luce either_. _I'm something_ _**new**_, he realized.

_This should be interesting_, he smirked.

Cas watched Sam with a cautious expression, he could see from Sam's soul what had happened, _Full integration_. He just didn't know what that meant for Sam, "How do you feel, Sam?" he asked.

Dean froze in alarm at the sound of concern, with maybe just a touch of fear, in the angel's voice.

Sam stopped and considered, "We are one," he said in a voice devoid of expression. He shook his head and grinned, "No, _I_ won! There was no way to get rid of Luce, so I took a leaf out the Leviathans' book and _ate_ him."

Dean look surprised, but still unnerved, Cas laid a reassuring hand on his arm while smiling at Sam, "I think that _absorbed_ is probably a more accurate description."

A shadow passed over Sam's face, "Have I damned myself, Cas?"

Cas shook his head, "There is dark in everyone, just now for you it's quite a bit darker."

Both Sam and Dean relaxed and breathed a little easier.

"The trick is to know that it's there, but _not_ to listen to it," Cas added with a meaningful expression.

"I know that now," Sam agreed.

"I believe in you, Sam. And I'm here for you, both of you," he added looking at Dean, "if you need me. Isn't that what 'brothers' are for, dude?" the word sounded strange in his mouth, but if he was going to be an honorary Winchester he supposed he ought to try to sound like one.

"Dude? You _really_ have changed," laughed Dean, throwing an affectionate arm around the angel's shoulders.

"Yeah? So, you and Dean have talked about things?" asked Sam, getting the wrong end of the stick.

Cas looked mystified, but put it out of his mind as he patted Dean on the back to try and stop him from choking on his coffee.

**The End**

~#~

**A/N**

**For some reason I don't like the sound of '**_**Leviathans**_**', I wish the plural was '**_**Leviathan**_**' – like '**_**sheep'**_** only without the wool and with more teeth. :€**

**Conceived on a Halloween my family only grudgingly celebrate, this fic's meant to be set around the Day of the Little Angels (1 Nov), Dead (2 Nov), and Skulls (9 Nov). Since research comprised of five minutes on Wikipedia, apologies for any factual inaccuracies.**

**Thanks to Tribble Master for the original prompt that led to 'No Way Home' which in turn spawned "Devil on Your Shoulder" and then this fic.**

**Thanks to OpheliacAngel who suggested a follow-up to 'Baking With God', which inspired the Chuck scene (although the fact he mentions he's **_**going**_** to cookery classes implies this is actually a prequel).**

~#~


End file.
